


Silent Screams

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: No matter how much Steve loves him, how careful he is to not hurt Billy, nothing can stop trauma's relentless hold.





	Silent Screams

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote for this fandom, and of course I return with this. For day 18's prompt, 'muffled scream.'

“No, stop—I didn’t—_please—”_

Someone who can string together words so smoothly, entice others into doing what he pleases, reduced to a stumbling, incoherent mess. He can hardly comprehend anything which leaves his mouth. His own words are merely buzzing in his ears.

Because all his mind can focus on is that which is spat out of his father’s mouth.

“Nothing. You’re _nothing. _I should’ve never let her have you!”

Billy tries to tear his arms out of Neil’s relentless grasp. He’s far from weak. Yet Neil is the same, and the power he has over his son is not physical alone. He knows Billy is terrified of him. Fear nulls resistance, strength; Billy’s struggles are rendered useless underneath the weight of control Neil has over him.

So all his struggles do, trying to throw the hands off his pinned arms, is cause him to see himself as even more pathetic than he already does.

“I won’t do it again.” His words are blades against the inside of his hoarse throat. _“Please.”_

There’s a strike across his face. It swings to the side. It isn’t until he feels the coolness of a tear trickling over the reddened skin that he realises he is crying.

“You’re a little shit who won’t be taught a lesson until you’re put in your place.”

Billy shakes his head. That’s all he can do, as he feels hands unbuckle his belt, slip down his trousers. Please, please, please. It doesn’t matter how many times he says it. Not when Neil doesn’t actually care for apologies, or for Billy saying that his father is right—all Neil wants is to display his power and control.

He doesn’t care. No one does.

He can cry, he can scream, yet no one will come running.

He tries to do so anyway. A scream which tears his throat, hurts his chest. A hand covers his mouth to muffle the sound.

“You’re that weak, huh? You’re a filthy homo, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you enjoy this?”

Fresh tears escape his eyes as he blinks once more. He shakes his head. He continues to sob, to scream, all muffled underneath Neil’s hand. His breaths are rapid. Head spinning wildly, nausea surging through his stomach.

And the pain. It hurts so much. Every single thrust, the nails which dig straight into his skin.

Does he not already hurt enough, even without that?

Does he really deserve this as well?

“This is what you deserve, Billy. No other way to teach you a lesson, put you in your place—you know that, don’t you, Billy?”

“Billy? _Billy?”_

Stop. Stop saying his name. He doesn’t want to hear it, not from that voice, not from _him. _Not as he does this, takes what he pleases, treating Billy as though he doesn’t deserve to choose what happens to him.

“_Billy!”_

No—no, that isn’t him. Not anymore. Billy blinks. Twice. Thrice. Before finally, his eyes begin to adjust to the world around him. It fades into focus. And as he blinks once more, he is finally able to make out the shape of Steve hovering over him, concern etched on his face, a hand patting Billy’s face as though trying to bring him back.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice is relieved, yet still filled with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“N-Nothing.” Billy eases Steve away, sitting up against the headboard. He holds a hand over his mouth. He notices that he’s trembling.

“Billy—” Steve reaches for Billy, yet his hand recoils as Billy flinches. “Hey. It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings his hand closer again, only slower this time. Billy allows this hand to rest on his shoulder, thumb rubbing over the skin. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?”

Billy shakes his head. He avoids making eye contact regardless; his eyes, wide and barely blinking, stare down at the duvet he is clenching in his spare hand. “No. No, it’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not fine.” Steve brings himself closer, gently easing Billy’s hand down from his mouth to hold it instead. “Billy. Please.” His voice is slightly firmer now, but only to break through to him. Billy finally meets his eyes for a moment, before shame and disgust force him to drop his gaze once again.

“You—I had a flashback when you put your hand over my mouth for a moment.” He says this quickly, deeming it easier to get it out of the way as fast as possible. He realises it hurts no less.

“A flashback?”

“Of Neil. It—it wasn’t common, but sometimes …” Billy inhales sharply. “He did that to stop me screaming, when he …”

Billy doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Steve’s face has paled. He has already been told of the types of abuse Billy has endured, stayed with him regardless, although any decent person will react the same each time it is brought up once again. The disgust and hatred for a man who would dare to lay his hands on his supposed son.

Before he says a word, Steve has wrapped his arms around Billy. Tightly, as though he cannot bear to let go. Billy can only remain frozen.

“I’m sorry,” says Steve. “If I had known, I wouldn’t—God, I’m an idiot.”

“Shut it. It’s not _your _fault. It would have been hot, without everything considered.” Billy finally lets himself wrap an arm around Steve in return. “_I’m _the idiot. It’s already been a decade, yet look at me, crying like a goddamn pussy.”

Steve shakes his head. He backs away from the hug, tucking strands of hair behind Billy’s ear. “Anyone would cry, remembering something like that. No matter what _he _tells you.” Steve’s face has darkened. “I swear, if I could just lay my hands on that bastard—”

“You couldn’t beat _me _in a fight, Harrington. And I’ve never beaten him, so dream on.”

Billy attempts to say this completely as a joke, yet his voice fails him. It clearly cracks. Steve’s eyebrows furrow, his hand rubbing down Billy’s arm absent-mindedly.

“It doesn’t matter.” He is speaking barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let him lay a hand on you again.”

Steve says this so firmly, Billy can almost believe him. He wishes it could be this simple. That he could enjoy these moments with Steve without trauma bringing about unforgiving memories, that he didn’t feel as though his entire life has been tainted by the man he once dared to call his father.

He loves Steve, appreciates every kind word, every kiss, every touch. But there is only so much love can do.

Sometimes, it helps ease the pain. But it will never disappear entirely.

His own screams will forever ring in his ears, no matter how much Steve’s voice tries to break through instead.


End file.
